


Mourn the Living

by BellaBabe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaBabe/pseuds/BellaBabe
Summary: Endgame spoilers ahead.Steve finds happiness in the arms of Peggy Carter. Left behind, Bucky wrestles with what it means to love Steve Rogers.





	Mourn the Living

Bucky stares up at Steve as he adjusts his weight on the platform. Steve shuffles unnecessarily, the case containing the infinity stones clutched tightly in his hand. Bucky knows that tell. That aimless shuffling had preceded Steve and Bucky’s fair share of juvenile stunts in Brooklyn, about half of which were seriously incriminating. That tell had preceded a well crafted argument for why it was an excellent idea to scale Mrs. Simons fire escape and a rather doomed effort to convince Linda O’Sullivan that Bucky was in fact a romantic at heart. Bucky looks up at Steve’s wooden expression and he knows. He knows Steve has no intention of coming back to the world which had asked too much of him. When Steve vanishes in the confusing lurch of time travel Bucky, resigned, turns away from the platform .

“Back in five, four, three, two, one.” Banner’s words echo quietly across the clearing. Nothing happens. Sam turns and raises his eyebrows at Banner.

“He’s not coming back.” Bucky says, face impassive. Sam stares at Bucky evenly before his eyes flit over to Banner.

“What does that mean?”

“It means our Captain America will be living out his days in whatever alternate universe he’s created I suppose.”

“With Peggy.” Bucky murmurs. Sam glances at him speculatively and Bucky meets his gaze as squarely as possible.

“Well, if anyone deserves a happy ending.” Sam says languidly, eye scanning Bucky’s face attentively. Bucky turns away slowly and tries to tamper down the guilt that rises up, unbidden. If anyone deserves a happy ending it’s Steve Rogers. Bucky brushes away whatever hopes he’d had of spending the next few years in recovery with sporadic visits from Steve, like when he’d been living in Wakanda. Steve deserves better though doesn't he? Bucky may love Steve but he’s always known that whatever he has to offer falls short of enough.

“Guess that’s it for Captain America. Hard to believe really.” Banner intones. Bucky often forgets that there’s a whole generation of children who grew up hearing bedtime stories about Captain America’s adventures.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Sam says a bit sheepishly. Bucky grins.

“Left you to take up the mantle did he?”

“I didn’t know what he meant at the time, I promise.” Sam assures them, but his gaze is directed at Bucky. Bucky squirms under that stare, the promise too personal to be anything other than an admission of knowing. Knowing the lengths Bucky has gone to protect Steve, of the bond that exists, or existed he supposed, between the two of them. However much it was rarely acknowledged except in foolhardy acts of self sacrifice.

“Congratulations Wilson, or should I call you Cap now?” Banner asks, smiling good naturedly.

“Is it too late to bring back the aliens?” Bucky mumbles half heartedly but he’s gifted with an amused smile from Banner. Sam cuffs him on the back of the head.

They slowly make their way back up to the Stark’s cottage. Morgan and Happy are cocooned on the porch and Bucky can hear Pepper and Laura talking quietly in the dining room. Bucky pauses at the threshold, untethered by the realization that he will never see Steve again. Not in the way which had plagued him as the Winter Soldier, a surety that Steve was dead fueled by the ramblings of scientists and newspaper clippings, but something far worse. Back then he had no choice but to keep moving, hardly remembering Steve at all, but now? Now it would have to be a conscious decision to live without Steve.

Bucky clutches the door frame so hard it splinters. The realization overwhelms him swiftly, leaving him free floating on a tide of uncertainty. He could do it couldn’t he? Steve wasn’t dead after all, not really. Steve was, for once in over seventy years, living. That at least was a comfort. He’d lived without Steve before and he could do it again, this time bolstered by the knowledge that Steve would no doubt be well cared for, in ways Bucky had failed at.

 

Sam places a questioning hand on Bucky’s shoulder, steering him towards the lake where Bucky can see Clint and Wanda talking quietly.

“You alright man?” Sam asks, arms crossed and eyebrows cocked, leaving no room for anything but an honest answer. Bucky looks out at the water, intentionally avoiding Sam’s eyes.

"He’s really gone.” Bucky’s tone is flat, but his erratic breathing gives him away.

“I’m sorry.” Sam says earnestly, as if Bucky’s the only person who’s lost someone in this war. As if Tony Stark’s grieving widow isn’t just steps away from them.

“You lost him too.”

“I was never supposed to have met him.” Sam shrugs. “You were supposed to grow old together.”

“Doesn’t change anything.”

“No, no I suppose it doesn’t.” Sam’s stare is long and measured. “You being in love him does though.”

Bucky stifles his surprise poorly. Sam returns his reassuring grip to Bucky’s shoulder.

“You have a surprisingly poor poker face for an assassin, Barnes.” Sam’s stare doesn’t waver and Bucky crumples a little under Sam’s impassive, well meaning efforts. Must be hard always having to be the voice of reason.

“I wanted him to choose me.” Buck murmurs, chest contracting with guilt at the admission. It’s selfish, hoping that Steve would stay in this world for him. Bucky knows though, with a surety that surprises him, that Sam will take whatever Bucky tells him to the grave.

“Fuck.” Bucky sinks down into the grass. “I wanted him to choose me, Sam.” He looks up at Sam. “I wanted him to stay for me. How fucked up is that?”

 

There’s a lengthy silence which neither of them attempts to break. Bucky doesn’t know what makes him say it, except maybe the fact that there’s really no reason not to anymore.

“The years I spent in Wakanda were the happiest of my fucking life,” Bucky’s smile is wistful and touched with grief. “I didn’t even care about the nightmares or the scars because Steve was alive.”

Bucky looks off, torn somewhere between wonder and disbelief. “Even after everything I'd done, he still wanted to see me, know me.”

Sam settles himself next to Bucky, basking in the late evening sun. “None of the rest mattered to me.” Bucky gives Sam a half smile, a small genuine thing Sam has hardly ever seen on the man except when in the presence of Steve Rogers.

“He had lines around his eyes and he wouldn’t laugh quite as hard as he used to but he was still Steve.”

 

Bucky had always known that the war was going to be a one way ticket out of Brooklyn for him. He had never planned on seeing Steve again. Bucky had expected to be another unmarked grave among hundreds. He had probably been saved from a fate similar to that of a kid whose bible he'd shared and then seen bleed out two days later. Bucky had been given a handful of extra years with Steve, more than he bargained for really. It would have to be enough.

“I’m such a fucking selfish asshole,” Bucky’s laugh is hollow. “I wanted him to throw the chance to grow old with the love of his life away? For what?”

At the beginning of the war, when Bucky was still convinced he was more human than monster, Steve would turn to Bucky first in briefings. It had always been that way. Steve formulated the plans and threw himself head first into danger, but not without a quick look over his shoulder to make sure Bucky was following closely at his heels. Which he inevitably always was. The camaraderie which had been forged by back alley brawls in Brooklyn alleys had weakened as Bucky struggled to understand why the weight of a rifle could soothe his nerves better than a strong whiskey.

And just as Bucky was always chasing at Steve’s heels, Peggy was always staunchly marching behind him. A kind or firm word from her enough to reinvigorate Steve, a slow press of her palm against his cheek enough to lift his spirits.

“He talked about the war sometimes but only in bits in pieces. He was always most wistful about that time, after he had met Peggy.” Bucky continues, changing tactics. Maybe if he says it out loud it will loosen the knot of longing and grief which has made its home in the pit of Bucky’s stomach.

“I couldn’t even be jealous, not really. I was so thankful for her you know? So thankful that Steve found someone who would love him properly.”

“And it wasn’t just anyone either was it? It was Peggy fucking Carter.” Bucky thinks of all the times he’d encouraged Steve to join him dancing, all the double dates he’d dragged him to all in the hope of finding him a nice girl. Even if any of the girls had taken an interest in Steve he should have known that Steve would have been bored with nice.

“I knew as soon as I saw her, red lipstick and pinned up hair, that that was it for Steve. He’d never have eyes for anyone else.”

Bucky thinks of long nights pouring over battle tactics with the Commandos. How after everyone had trickled off, Peggy and Steve would still stay pressed shoulder to shoulder. How Peggy would murmur something and Steve would smile appreciatively, always in awe of her. Bucky could hardly blame him, Peggy was the kind of woman who constantly surprised you.

Bucky laughs. “Steve never really did anything half assed. Not even falling in love.”

 

“I kissed him once did he ever tell you?” Sam shakes his head mutely, looking half terrified to interrupt Bucky’s grief driven bout of honesty. Bucky can’t blame him, this is probably the longest conversation he’s had with anyone other than Steve in years.

“Hm he wouldn’t would he? Would want to save me the embarrassment.” Bucky flashes Sam the smile which had girls from dance halls believing he would be suitable to bring home to their mothers.

Sam startles as Bucky laughs. “Probably thought I’d get over it.”

“It was pre-serum. When we shared a cramped studio apartment in Brooklyn, hardly enough space to breathe nevermind do anything else.”

Bucky remembers that night so clearly, even with the way his mind has been warped by Hydra this memory has managed to rise above the others. Probably a combination of fear, humiliation and an intoxicating mix of cheap whiskey and Steve’s bright smile. Bucky remembers dragging Steve out to the pub an old flame of Bucky’s used to favour. Begging Steve to loosen the purse strings a little so they could have a good time and Steve relenting at Bucky’s dramatics.

“I blamed the alcohol and Steve was far too decent to ever make a big deal out of it.”

Bucky remembers Steve’s charcoal covered fingers brushing the fringe out of his eyes and the rim of the glass against Steve’s lips. Remembers the queasy feeling which climbed to the surface every time he noticed the flush of Steve’s cheeks. Bucky remembers leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom while Steve tried to wrangle Bucky into washing up. Remembers pressing Steve against the sink and dragging the pads of his fingers against Steve’s flushed cheeks. Gently, oh so gently, just grazing the skin. He remembers the press of lips against lips and Steve’s muffled sound of surprise. Remembers Steve using an equal amount of tenderness to put him to bed.

“I just–” Bucky ducks his head. “I wanted to be enough for him.”

“He loved you.” Sam states firmly.

“I know.” The _just not enough_ goes unsaid.

Sam’s joints pop as he unfurls himself from his position on the lawn. The sun’s mostly gone down now, a faded orange hue bathing them in a warm light.

“C’mon, I told the others we’d say our goodbyes before leaving.” Bucky nods and brushes himself off. Thinking, not for the first time and most definitely not for the last, how many more times he’s going to have to pick himself back up before it’s all over.


End file.
